Hogwarts High School
by Sapientia Aenean
Summary: What if Harry, Ron, and Hermione were just normal Muggle teenagers who attend Hogwarts High School? Pairings yet to be determined!
**Hogwarts High School**

Chapter One:

"Beep! Beep! Beep!" I slam my hand down on my phone, looking for just a moment of respite from this harsh noise. "It's only six in the morning, god!" After lying in bed for fifteen more minutes, I slowly slump out of my bed, taking my phone with me. After putting on my Spotify playlist, I take out my Beats Pill and hop into the shower. Fall Out Boy and Green Day pound throughout my suite, effectively waking up everyone else in the house. As I step out of the shower, soaking wet, I quickly towel off and pull out a loose pair of jeans and my signed Beckham jersey, from the LA Galaxy. I quickly flash my watch, giving a time check. "Only 6:20," I thought to myself. "I could still have breakfast and make it in time to Ron's to pick him up. Lemme send him a quick text to confirm."

"Hey Ron, gonna come pick you up in forty. Eating breakfast right now."

He replied within seconds. "NP, you should come over for breakfast. You know how much Mom loves to have you over."

"You sure?" (Me)

"Yeah, just come on over. You can park in the back and go through the side entrance."

I smirked. Ron always sent me the same text when I went over to his house. While not exactly rich, Ron's family always had enough to get by comfortably. On the other hand, my parents were excessively rich. James Potter, the sole heir of one of the most influential families originating from the Battle of Hastings, back in 1066, and a professional soccer player, and Lily Potter, an exclusive fashion designer who only takes custom orders from celebrities. My mom worked from home in her study, and Dad's taking a break from soccer to spend more time with Mom and me. Anyway, the last member of our "Golden Trio," Hermione Granger, is upper-middle class, like Ron. Her parents are physicians, and her paternal uncles run an internationally well-known law firm based in New York City. Everything about her screams classy and educated. Together, the three of us make up the most popular group of the class of 2019.

Still thinking about our grand entrance into school, I hop into my BMW i8. I don't have my license yet, so I had to settle for our chauffeur, Sturgis Podmore. Sturgis has been with our family for as long as I can remember, and he's almost like an older cousin to me.

"Hey Harry! Ready for the first day of high school?" Sturgis asked cheerfully.

I grunted back in response. "Yeah, seems cool, I guess."

"Looks like _someone_ didn't have their morning coffee today," he teased cheerfully. "Where to?"

I lay across the three backseats, spreading myself out. "Ron's, please, Podmore." Sometimes I call Sturgis by his last name, Podmore, when I want to cheekily remind him that he's on my parents' payroll. He's cool with it, though. I always show respect for the servicemen on the manor, because I believe everyone should be treated with respect. There are a few exceptions to that, like Snape, the biology and organic chemistry teacher, and Draco Malfoy, the second-richest (after me, of course) person in our school. The Malfoys have been our enemy ever since Ambroise Malfoy fatally wounded my great-times-a-million-grandfather, Aldon Potter, in the Battle of Hastings. Always slithering around, the Malfoys convinced the English that they were renouncing their French heritage, but that was only a scheme to spy on us and gain intelligence. My great-times-a-million-grandfather caught him in the act, and would have killed him if it weren't for the dagger imbedded in his ribcage that Malfoy threw. No matter where we go, the Malfoys just seem to follow us, and we can never shake them off of our tail. My dad always insists on being curt and distant from the Malfoys, because of all the grievances they've caused us in the past, but Malfoy Jr. never actually did anything to me. We were on the same sports teams, and always competed in everything, but he seemed like a cool guy and always helped me out. Anyway, the worst person in the whole school is Snivellus Snape. My father warned me, and said that if Headmaster Dumbledore dared to put me in his class after the near fatal experience between my dad and Snape, I should text him right away so he can sort it out. It simply can't be healthy, having the son of one's former mortal enemy in your mercy, he explained.

After fifteen more boring minutes of sitting in the back, Ron's house came into view. I grabbed my bookbag and slung it over my shoulder, while thanking Sturgis.

Running into the house, I slipped my bag off and walked into the kitchen. Always well maintained by Ron's mom, smells of freshly sizzled bacon and sausages made my stomach rumble. "Hi Mrs. Weasley," I called in greeting.

"Don't be silly, Harry dear! I told you it was Molly!"

I chuckled, and sat down at the dining table. Since I come over so much, I have my own spot at the table. I sit next to Ron and Fred (or George, I can never tell), and across from Ginny. I grab a plate and pile it high with scrambled eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausages, and hash browns. After all, I need my fuel for football tryouts. Because our school, Hogwarts High, is super athletics-focused, in addition to our superb academics, fall sports tryouts start on the first day of school, to allow as much practice time with the team as possible. While picking through my breakfast, I sit with Ron and discuss the chances of our favorite team, the Seattle Seahawks, winning. I love the style of their quarterback, Russell Wilson, and I try to emulate it as much as possible. My agility and speed definitely keeps me flexible in terms of how I can advance the ball, as scrambling is always an option. Ron, on the other hand, was one of the best wide receivers in the state last year. He's fast, so he can run to the ball; tall, so he can easily catch over defenders; and strong, so he can keep his grip on the ball and break out of tackles. After all, you need to be strong to deal with all those siblings that he has, especially Fred and George, the two biggest pranksters I've ever met. All the sleepovers Ron and I have now are at my house, because the last time I slept over at his house, Fred and George put a giant tarantula in Ron's pajamas when he was sleeping and scattered all my belongings all over the house. I'm still missing that deck of cards…

After I finish my plate off, Mrs. Weasley, eh hem, I mean Molly, comes in to collect it, while setting down a jug of fresh OJ. "Harry, you should have some orange juice, you're so thin! Come over for dinner more often!" I smile, because Mrs. Weasley has been worrying about me since day one. My mom used to bring me over for playdates, because Mrs. Weasley was always one of her oldest friends. With her newfound fame, the Weasleys were afraid that she would leave them for bigger, better, and richer people. Like _that_ would ever happen! My mom still won't let my dad say anything negative about Snape, her old childhood friend, when she's around, and he broke her heart when they were fifteen.

When Ron finally finishes his third helping, we hop back into the i8. Sturgis is reading the paper while sipping coffee, his oatmeal long forgotten on the passenger seat. "Hey, kiddos, ready to go?"

"Yep!" Ron and I chorused from the backseat. Sturgis didn't need to worry about asking if we forgot anything. He would always wait in the parking lot till lunchtime, when he would gladly drive us around town for whatever we please. This meant that if I forgot my cleats, or a major assignment later in the year, that he could go back and get it. I try not to take advantage of him, though, because he's just such a genuine and nice guy.

As Sturgis pulls out of the driveway, I roll the windows down, letting my longish black hair messily frame my face in elegant, but carefree, waves. Ron sits to the right of me, his eyes glued to the cable T.V. suspended from the ceiling. "Woah, man, I've been taking your cars for the past couple years now, but I still can't wrap my head around the perks of these babies! Cable T.V, reclining backseats, seat warmers for the winter, coat compartments…" He rambles on and on.

I smirk and shake the hair out of my eyes. "You forgot about the mini-fridge."

Ron's eyes popped out of his head. "Where?" he asked, whipping his head back and forth, in search for the drinks and food that was inevitably there. Ron was _always_ hungry, and could eat an entire pizza. It doesn't show in his lean, muscular frame though. All the girls in our middle school fell either Ron or me, and sometimes both of us at the same time, and we knew it. In fact, some of the drama queens _literally_ fell for us, several times over. We can't help it though; it's just our luck that we're well off, smart, athletic, and handsome. Somehow, every girl (except Hermione Granger, but we'll get to her later) has been charmed by our charisma and natural ability to carry ourselves in a confident and casual manner. Unbuttoned top buttons, rumpled hair, and easygoing smirks complement our features beautifully. Whoever said _Draco Malfoy_ was vain obviously hasn't met _me._

After parking in the lot reserved for Hogwarts High, I jump out the car, and, already, three girls are waiting outside, swooning over us. I flash my biggest smile and charmingly say, "Good morning, Ladies." They all giggle hysterically and bat their eyelashes at us. "If you'll excuse us, we need to find our way to the main office to be sorted into our houses. Could you direct us there?" They all nod their heads like bobble head figures and pull us into the building. What a great way to start off my first day at Hogwarts High.


End file.
